


Permission

by glitterburn (orphan_account)



Category: Super Junior-M
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-31 20:58:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/glitterburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you just need permission to let go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Permission

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crazy_Dumpling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazy_Dumpling/gifts).



The faint hum of the air con breaks the silence of the room, but not the tension. Siwon prowls barefoot back and forth across the carpet, waiting, waiting. Zhou Mi stands at the window, looking down at the flash and spool of lights in Singapore. They both inhabit that strange place between exhaustion and exhilaration, detached from the concert they’ve just given but still caught up in the sense of performance. On nights like this, Siwon needs Zhou Mi. Needs to lose himself, needs to keep on taking what’s given, needs to prolong the high of experience. 

He waits, circling closer to Zhou Mi. They both know what will happen here tonight. It’s inevitable. But he waits, because Zhou Mi hasn’t given permission yet, and the waiting is painful and exciting, and while he waits, there’s still the possibility that Zhou Mi will say ‘no’.

Another long minute passes, and then Zhou Mi turns from the window. He looks immaculate as always, dressed in a suit similar to the one he wore on stage, black and beautifully tailored. His hair is still slightly damp. He has that glow about him, the happiness he carries whenever he’s been able to pour his emotions into song, and it makes him irresistible.

Siwon comes closer, lust overcoming reason.

“Yes,” Zhou Mi says, voice husky and dark. “Yes.”

With a groan, Siwon grabs at him, pulls him in tight, puts his hands on him. Zhou Mi fits against him, hands sliding over Siwon’s chest, his shoulders, up into his hair. Siwon takes a handful of Zhou Mi’s ass, hauls him even closer. 

“God, I love seeing you in a suit.” Siwon brushes kisses along Zhou Mi’s jaw, claims his mouth. They kiss, hot and urgent, then Siwon breaks free. “Love seeing you out of it, too,” he adds with a half laugh, pulling at the buttons on Zhou Mi’s shirt.

“Wait.” Zhou Mi sounds breathless. He pushes at Siwon. “Wait, Shi Yuan.”

“No. I want to play with you.” Siwon gives ground reluctantly. He knows he sounds like a greedy child, but he doesn’t care. “Tonight, with the water-jets... you looked incredible. You should be wet all the time.”

Keeping one hand in the middle of Siwon’s chest to stop him from getting closer, Zhou Mi tilts his head and smiles. “You didn’t look too bad yourself.”

Siwon reaches out, strokes along Zhou Mi’s sleeve. God, yeah, Zhou Mi in a suit does things to him, things he doesn’t want to acknowledge outside of these moments. Zhou Mi has the ability to get under his skin, and it scares Siwon sometimes with its intensity. Sometimes it’s like Zhou Mi can read his mind.

“Donghae looked good, too, didn’t he?” Zhou Mi continues, his smile teasing. “With his white shirt all wet and see-through.”

Siwon frowns. “I didn’t notice.”

“I did.” Zhou Mi relaxes his hand, curls his fingers into the neck of Siwon’s shirt. Now he sounds mocking. “And then you took off your shirt in front of Sungmin and Henry. Flaunting yourself so shamelessly.”

A protest gasps from Siwon. “In front of a stadium of fans, too! They liked it.”

“Of course they did.” Zhou Mi flattens his palm against Siwon’s chest again, increases the pressure and drags his touch down, making it possessive and demanding. “You have a body made for sin, YuanYuan.”

The pet name turns Siwon weak. Not even Han Geng had called him that—he’d tried, once, but Siwon had ignored it—but he’ll take it now, loves hearing it on Zhou Mi’s lips. It rouses something squirmy inside him, something that interferes with his capacity to think straight. 

“Sin is wrong,” he says. “It’s, uh—it’s...” His voice tails off, his breathing quickening, his thoughts distracted as Zhou Mi’s hand slides on down to his waist, toys with the leather of his belt, then moves lower to cup his groin.

“Sinful,” Zhou Mi suggests.

“Yeah,” Siwon groans, pushing into Zhou Mi’s hand. “Sin is sinful.”

Zhou Mi takes away his caress. He steps back, chin lifted, a challenge glimmering in his eyes.

Siwon grabs for him again, but Zhou Mi sidesteps, evading him and moving towards the bed with a look of blatant invitation. Siwon growls. Charges at him. He’s startled when Zhou Mi allows himself to be caught so easily, but the surprise lasts only a few seconds. Zhou Mi is much stronger these days, and he uses Siwon’s momentum against him, uses it to swing them both down onto the bed, twisting so that he’s on top.

Siwon doesn’t care. He can flip Zhou Mi off him just as soon as he feels like it, and right now he’s enjoying the sensation of being pinned down too much to want to change their positions. He shoves at Zhou Mi’s suit jacket, rips at his shirt. “Want you. Going to fuck you, Mimi, going to fuck you until you scream for me.”

“Not tonight.” Zhou Mi rears back, damp hair tumbled in his eyes, his shirt gaping open to reveal smooth, pale chest. “You’re mine tonight. How can you have forgotten?”

Siwon’s eyes widen. Shit, he _had_ forgotten their stupid agreement. “But...”

Zhou Mi places a finger against Siwon’s lips, silencing his protest. “Of the two of us, I got the biggest cheer for my solo. And that’s even with the Only 13ers going for their toilet breaks.”

Siwon bites at Zhou Mi’s finger. “Your solo was only popular because it’s from my TV show. Mine and Hae’s, I mean. The fans weren’t applauding you, they were... they were appreciating _Skip Beat_.” His heart races at the audacity of his lie.

Zhou Mi’s eyebrows arch in amusement. “Shi Yuan, if you want to play dirty, may I suggest that for the next concert you take off your shirt while you’re singing hymns? I for one would gladly convert if such a temptation was dangled before me.”

“You’re a heathen. You’ll always be a heathen.” Siwon wriggles. “I’m not going to taint my religious message with—with...”

“Displays of the flesh?” Zhou Mi pulls Siwon’s shirt from his trousers, pushes it up to his chest without unbuttoning it. “As I recall, a lot of saints seem to be martyred in a state of undress.”

Siwon flounders, his awareness shrinking down to the knowledge of Zhou Mi’s fingers across his abs. “To—it’s to show their humility.” Another teasing caress. “Oh God.” Zhou Mi slides delicate circles around his navel. It takes real effort for Siwon to focus. He takes a steadying breath, continues, “It’s to show their—their vulnerability.”

Zhou Mi looks down at him. “You hate being vulnerable.” 

A shudder of response goes through Siwon. “Mimi...”

“Answer me, Yuan.”

Siwon wasn’t even aware of it being a question. In this mood, Zhou Mi only ever makes statements or issues commands, and it’s hard for Siwon to pull himself from the downward tow of lust. “Oh fuck,” he moans, “yes. Yes, I hate it,” even as he knows he’s giving in to it. 

Zhou Mi smiles, looking like an incubus of the highest order. “You’re going to give me your vulnerability tonight, YuanYuan.”

A sob threatens to crawl from Siwon’s throat. He swallows it, anxious and aroused, light-headed even though he’s lying down. His cock throbs, pressing hard against the seam of his trousers. “Mimi, please.” He cants his hips, needing the pressure of Zhou Mi’s body over his. “Mimi—”

Zhou Mi makes a soft, amused sound and gets off the bed. He moves away and starts undressing, straightening and folding each discarded item of clothing with practised care. It’s an impersonal routine, not seductive, and he’s as brisk in his movements as if Siwon wasn’t lying there aching and desperate.

“Run the bath,” Zhou Mi says without looking at him. “I need to feel clean.”

Siwon drags himself to his feet and goes into the bathroom. He resists the urge to look back over his shoulder. By now he’s sure Zhou Mi will be naked. The thought tugs at him, but he keeps his attention on his task. It’s better for them both, better for _him_ , if he obeys. Anticipation flutters in the pit of his belly. 

A deep oval tub stands against one wall. Siwon leans over to push the plug into place, then opens the taps all the way. Water pours, splashing into the tub, the noise bouncing from the tiles. Once it’s a few inches deep, he halves the flow of the cold water. As the tub continues to fill, he looks over the products laid out on a mosaic shelf built into one end of the bath. He uncaps bottles to sniff at the scents, and finally chooses rose oil, delicately perfumed and slippery on his fingers, dabbling a small amount through the water. 

There’s a glass jar with dried rose petals stored inside. Siwon lifts the lid, inhales their rustling sweetness. Thinking Zhou Mi will appreciate the romantic touch, he scatters a handful in the bath, then rolls up his sleeve and plunges his arm into the water to check the temperature.

He looks around as Zhou Mi comes in, dressed in a hotel bathrobe. It’s belted loosely at the front, and as he leans against the doorframe, the robe splits around one knee. Siwon stares at Zhou Mi’s bare thigh. He takes an unsteady breath, inhales the scent of roses, and feels dizzy with it.

They stare at one another. Then Zhou Mi says, “Is my bath ready?”

“Yes.” Siwon bites back the word _Master_. They’ve never gone that far in their games. Zhou Mi has never demanded it, and Siwon half dreads, half craves the day he does. It’s a difficult thing, submission. It asks so much of him, and Siwon is never sure if he wants to give into it or if he wants to fight it. The conflict is what makes it such a potent lure, he supposes, and the struggle is all the greater when Zhou Mi asserts his dominance.

Zhou Mi swishes the edge of his robe and steps forward, head held high, his gaze bright. “Assist me.”

Siwon turns off the taps, swirls his fingers once more through the water, then stands and goes close to Zhou Mi. Glancing up for permission, he pulls at the loose ends of the belt. The cloth whispers as the knot is released and the robe falls open. 

Siwon catches his breath. He wants to groan, drop to his knees and bury his face against Zhou Mi’s thighs, wants to lick at him and taste his cock, the musky sweetness of his balls; wants to suck him to full strength and bring him to orgasm. Siwon is hard just thinking these things; it’s difficult to keep himself silent as he moves to stand behind Zhou Mi. The robe slides from Zhou Mi’s shoulders and Siwon catches it up, shakes it out, and hangs it on the wall-hook.

He comes back, offers Zhou Mi his hand, and helps him into the bath. Zhou Mi makes a small noise as he steps in and pauses for a moment, his grip tightening around Siwon’s fingers.

“Is it too hot?” Siwon asks, worried.

“It’s tolerable.” Zhou Mi lets go of his hand and folds himself into the tub, water splashing, rose petals floating on the swell. He makes himself comfortable, settling against the slope of the bath, and flashes Siwon a pointed look. “Tolerance is a fine lesson to learn.”

Siwon flushes, heat wriggling through him. “Yes.”

A few rose petals cling to Zhou Mi’s wet skin, and he seems to notice them for the first time. He peels one off, balances it on his fingertip. “This is a nice touch,” he murmurs. “Thank you.”

“I only want to please you.”

“Oh, but you do.” Zhou Mi blows the rose petal away and leans his head against the rolled side of the bath, gaze darkening as he looks Siwon up and down. “I doubt I could find a more eager boy in all of China.”

Siwon bridles at the word ‘boy’ even as his arousal increases.

Zhou Mi sighs, the sound ripe and wanton, and slides down a little further in the tub. Water sloshes, the sound oddly musical. The scent of roses is heavy in the steam-washed air. The rose petals bob on the surface, caressing Zhou Mi’s body. Siwon stares, his breath shortening, and wishes he could change places with the petals, wishes he could press himself that close to Zhou Mi.

Raising one long leg, Zhou Mi nudges his toes at the bath products placed at the end of the tub. “Wash me,” he commands.

Siwon moves to the foot of the bath. Aside from the gels and soaps and jar of rose petals, there’s also a selection of other items—a face cloth, a pumice stone, a natural sea sponge, a loofah mitt. Siwon decides against the latter. Zhou Mi’s skin is sensitive and the only abrasive thing he likes rubbed against him is Siwon’s stubble. Hot, sharp memories spike through his head: Zhou Mi with his legs spread, moaning helplessly as Siwon scratches over his thighs, as he rubs his day-old beard over Zhou Mi’s nipples, leaves rough red marks all over him as a claim of possession.

His cock aches. Siwon forces himself to concentrate. He chooses the sponge and drops it into the bath to soak up water. 

Zhou Mi looks at him, hair falling into his eyes, the dark, autumn-russet tendrils clinging to his forehead. There’s a calculating expression in his eyes, a wicked smile curving his lips. “Get in,” he says. “Join me.”

Siwon lifts his hands to unbutton his shirt.

“No,” Zhou Mi says softly. “As you are.”

Startled, Siwon stares at him. He’d taken his socks off with his shoes when they’d arrived here, but otherwise he’s fully dressed. Getting into the bath like this will mean he can’t leave—not that he was planning to do so anyway—but even overnight he doubts his clothes will dry in time for the morning. 

The others will see. They’ll know. 

It doesn’t matter that they know already. That’s not the point. Siwon still likes to keep up appearances, even if he’s not deceiving anyone but himself. 

Zhou Mi stretches, long and luxurious like a cat, his chest rising from the water. His eyes glitter. “Come here, YuanYuan.”

Siwon can deny him nothing. He steps into the bath, making a sound of protest as the water laps at his shins, soaks into the fabric of his trousers. Zhou Mi draws his legs back, giving Siwon more room to sit down. He feels awkward and embarrassed, the water seeping up his trouser legs. He crouches, sits at the opposite end of the tub, conscious of his clothes trapping air and ballooning out, then soaking through and clinging to his skin. The wet cloth moulds to his erection, dragging against it when he moves. The sponge rolls past on the floor of the tub; Siwon catches it, holds onto it.

Zhou Mi relaxes. He lifts his foot again, toes pointed, and sets it on Siwon’s thigh. Siwon slides a hand beneath Zhou Mi’s heel, cradling his foot, and trickles warm water from the sponge over Zhou Mi’s ankle. He dips the sponge into the bath, lifts it, and strokes it over Zhou Mi’s foot. Siwon bows his head, focusing on his task, every touch done with care and attention. He’s aware of his breathing, of the pull of his wet clothes, of Zhou Mi’s nakedness. Heat and the scent of rose oil swirls around him. Perspiration forms, runs down his face. He rubs the sponge gently up Zhou Mi’s leg as far as mid-thigh, bending so close his breath chases water droplets from Zhou Mi’s skin. He wants to press his lips to Zhou Mi’s leg, to lick at his knee, but he doesn’t have permission. 

Siwon brushes away a few clinging rose petals and sets Zhou Mi’s foot back into the water. He can hear the hitch in Zhou Mi’s breathing, is conscious of the tension coiling between them. Zhou Mi lifts his other leg, and Siwon repeats his actions. When he finishes, he glances up. 

Zhou Mi is dishevelled, face flushed, his eyes heavy-lidded, his lips parted. For a moment they gaze at each other, and then Zhou Mi moves, water splashing, and settles himself astride Siwon’s lap. The tub is just wide enough to allow the position; even so, it must be uncomfortable, and Siwon curls one arm beneath Zhou Mi’s ass, trying to cushion him slightly.

Zhou Mi looks down, skin glistening wet, eyelashes spiked with heat and moisture. His expression is full of drowsy lust. “Kiss me, Shi Yuan.”

Siwon kisses him, tastes the slight salty tang of his sweat and the sweetness of the green tea and aloe vera juice that Zhou Mi had drunk in the minibus on the way back from the concert venue. Zhou Mi increases the pressure of the kiss, slanting his lips over Siwon’s mouth, asking for more and yet more. Siwon responds, tipping his head back. Zhou Mi leans forward, forcing Siwon’s head back even further, until the base of his skull is against the rolled side of the tub. There’s an ache of discomfort in his neck, and Siwon makes a tiny squeak of protest. 

With his head bent at this angle, his throat is open and vulnerable. Zhou Mi strokes one hand up and down as if coaxing him to swallow. He plunders Siwon’s mouth, tongue hot and demanding, thrusting, fucking past Siwon’s last shreds of resistance.

Siwon can barely breathe. His heart pounds, the sound of it knocking in his ears, a dull, thumping beat. His free hand is gripped tight to Zhou Mi’s hip. Siwon hopes he’ll leave bruises.

Zhou Mi breaks the kiss, drags his mouth away. He licks his lips, sits back on Siwon’s lap. Desire has drenched his eyes black. “Wash me,” he says, voice little more than a growl, silk dragged over asphalt. “Wash me, YuanYuan.”

Siwon tries to gather his scattered wits. He gropes for the sponge, dribbles water over Zhou Mi’s back, directs glimmering waterfalls over his shoulders, his chest. Zhou Mi’s nipples are tight and hard; Siwon rubs the sponge over them, feels the jerk of response, Zhou Mi bucking against him.

With a hiss of annoyance, Zhou Mi grabs the sponge and tosses it at the sink. He locks his hands over his head. “Use your mouth.”

The command makes Siwon groan. Lust scratches at him. He sits up, adjusts Zhou Mi’s position on his lap, bringing them closer together. Zhou Mi murmurs, his eyes closing and his head going back, his arms still raised. Siwon licks at his throat down to his collarbones, then bends his head to Zhou Mi’s chest, kisses over muscles sharp and defined. The taste of rose oil is both sweet and acrid on his tongue; he inhales steam and the heat of Zhou Mi’s body. Dizziness spins through his head. He wants to devour Zhou Mi whole; he relearns the paths of desire, overwriting previous memories with his fingertips, with his tongue.

Zhou Mi shudders, hips rocking, his cock hard and pressing against Siwon’s abs. The drag of wet cloth must be as frustrating to him as it is to Siwon. Whimpers of need break from Zhou Mi and he ruffles his hands through Siwon’s hair, mussing it up, pulling just tight enough to spur lust rather than cause pain.

Siwon licks up Zhou Mi’s chest, up his throat. They kiss, breaths hot, tongues sliding, the kiss breaking into soft love-bites, lips wet with saliva. Siwon jerks his hips up. Water sloshes. Zhou Mi grinds down hard. He looks sleek and beautiful, arousal pinking his skin and making his eyes glitter. He takes a handful of Siwon’s sopping wet shirt and yanks at it. The fabric stretches tight beneath Siwon’s armpits, digs into his flesh. He gasps when the buttons give way and the wet cotton is dragged apart. 

Zhou Mi’s gaze fires. “You’re gorgeous, YuanYuan, so fucking gorgeous. My handsome boy. All mine.”

Excitement pulses, twists Siwon up inside. He likes hearing Zhou Mi’s praise. He loves being Zhou Mi’s plaything, but he’ll never admit it.

Zhou Mi splashes a hand beneath the water and unfastens Siwon’s belt. He rubs at Siwon’s cock through his trousers, the friction of wet cloth against hard flesh rough and exquisite. The button slips loose, and Zhou Mi pulls down the zipper. He dismounts from Siwon’s lap, shifts back in the tub, rose petals trailing in his wake. “I want you naked.”

Siwon struggles to get undressed, his clothes clinging, the narrow space of the tub hampering his movements. He scrawls around in the water, peels off each item, and ends on his knees. He hurls his clothes over the side of the bath, arcs of water spraying through the air, the wet garments hitting the floor with a solid, satisfying thud. Desperate, hungry, he reaches for Zhou Mi, who meets him halfway. 

They kiss, kneeling up in the tub, hands slipping and sliding over rose-oiled skin. Their cocks press together, Siwon shivering with need as he drowns in another kiss, all wet mouths and the hot, hungry flick of tongues. Zhou Mi rubs up hard against him, forcing him to lean back. Too concerned with keeping his balance, Siwon is confused when Zhou Mi reaches past him and pulls the loofah mitt into the bath.

“Stay exactly where you are,” Zhou Mi says and sits back, towing the loofah mitt towards him. Siwon obeys, thoughts dazed with steam and desire. He watches Zhou Mi draw the mitt over his hand and lather it up with soap. A sinful smile tilting his lips, Zhou Mi leans forward. 

Comprehension hits Siwon. He sways backwards. “No. Mimi, no—”

“Yes.” Zhou Mi takes Siwon by the cock with his ungloved hand. “Yes, YuanYuan. You’re going to like this.”

Siwon makes a soft sound. He’s not sure that he will, but he has no choice. It’s his will that’s bending tonight, and he can’t disobey. Until dawn, he belongs to Zhou Mi. The knowledge eats at him, bringing humiliation and relief, and he lets himself relax and welcome the tentative sense of surrender.

Zhou Mi dances clever fingers along Siwon’s cock. “Push your hips forward,” he says, voice rough with encouragement. “More. Pretend you’re fucking me. That’s it...” He slides closer, kisses the head of Siwon’s dick, then swallows him almost down to the root.

“Fuck!” Siwon jerks forward, shoving himself in deeper. Shit, Zhou Mi’s mouth is incredible, all tight suction and curling tongue, but just as Siwon instinctively draws back to thrust in again, Zhou Mi pulls off him and replaces his mouth with his hand.

The hand with the soapy mitten.

Siwon gasp-howls. Sensation jerks through him, wrong and intense, rough and slippery. Zhou Mi twists his hand and Siwon shudders, his mouth open, breath gasping. Again he tries to back away, but he’s trapped. Water splashes up the side of the tub, the sound loud. The mitt drags over his cock, rubbing along the shaft to the sensitive head, the soapy caress almost painful, almost too close to pleasure. 

“Look at me,” Zhou Mi says.

“No. Oh God.” Siwon’s thighs tremble. He grabs at the side of the tub, clenches tight, his fingers slipping. He’s burning up.

“Look at me, boy.”

Siwon looks, caught somewhere between shame and ecstasy. His senses have closed down, focused everything on his cock. Blood slams through him, his pulse jittering as he tries to maintain control. Zhou Mi’s eyes are avid with lust, his gloved hand moving with a slow, easy rhythm that Siwon wants to fuck into or back away from. He doesn’t know what he wants, doesn’t know anything. Bubbles catch in his pubic hair and slide down his thighs, the soap lather spreading in the water like a cloud of semen. He’s aware of a slight pain in his knees from his position, his muscles clenching and releasing as he gives in to the desire and thrusts into the mitten.

Zhou Mi holds his gaze. “Are you ready to say it?”

Siwon shakes his head. “No!”

“So stubborn.” Zhou Mi flashes him an amused glance and squeezes the mitten tighter. “I’ll coax it from you yet, Shi Yuan.”

“I won’t—ah!—I won’t say it,” Siwon pants, afraid that his desire will rule him and he’ll let the words slip. It wouldn’t be his fault if he did say it. No man could fight against a distraction as wicked as this; no man could resist a temptation as beautiful as Zhou Mi. Siwon moans, struggles, near demented with the urge to come. He can feel it building, knows it won’t take much. “Mi,” he begs, “Mimi, I’m close, I’m—”

Zhou Mi stops immediately. “Turn around.”

Disappointment hammers at Siwon, but he knows he hasn’t earned the right to an orgasm yet. It takes every ounce of willpower to keep his hands off his soapy cock. God, it would be so easy, so quick—just a few tugs and he’d empty himself all over Zhou Mi, but he knows what would happen next. He’d be cast out, the door slammed in his face, and he’d have to walk back to his room in wet clothes, a walk of shame. The thought slices at his pride. He can’t fail Zhou Mi, either, otherwise it could be the end of everything between them, and he needs this too much, needs Zhou Mi too much.

Trembling, Siwon turns around in the sloshing, foamy water. It’s only lukewarm now, but he’s still sweating, his hair hanging damp and bedraggled in his face. Trying to control the frantic gallop of his pulse, the shallow gasps of his breaths, he braces himself against the end of the tub.

“Down.” Zhou Mi swats at his ass. It’s just a playful smack, but the sound of wet skin against wet skin is loud, and Siwon judders lower, taking his weight through his arms. He realises he’s in almost the same position as when he was on stage tonight, poised over the water-jet as if he intended to do push-ups over it. This time he doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold himself up. Not when Zhou Mi is behind him, stroking patterns over his ass and up and down the back of his thighs; not when Zhou Mi’s fingers slide into his crack and stroke through the wet hair before travelling down to cup his balls, full of seed and risen high; not when everything is so _sensitive_.

“Mimi.” His voice is dry, which is absolutely fucking ironic because every other part of him is wet, sweat and water and rose oil and lather and pre-come. “Mimi, please.”

There’s a splash as Zhou Mi kneels up and brings him closer. Siwon mews, feeling the heat and strength of Zhou Mi’s cock against his ass. “Oh God,” Siwon begs, his arms trembling. He’s going to fall and fall hard, he knows it. 

Zhou Mi guides his cock to Siwon’s hole, teases him with it for a moment, then pushes in, slick only with rose-scented water. Siwon catches his breath, hangs there for the space of a heartbeat, then ramps back onto him, keening through the drag of that first thrust until Zhou Mi is inside him, stretching him wide. 

“Will you say it now?” Zhou Mi asks, and this time the timbre of his voice, warm and sticky, crawls up Siwon’s spine.

Siwon shakes his head, unable to answer. He’s struggling to keep himself upright, swamped by lust, overwhelmed by the need to be filled. He shoves backwards, works himself onto Zhou Mi’s cock some more, jerks forward, thrusts back, fucking himself as Zhou Mi remains motionless.

Zhou Mi sighs as if disappointed. The sound burns through Siwon, lighting his nerve-endings. He tosses his head, his wet fringe flicking up, sweat hazing his vision. His heartbeat accelerates. His chest is tight. 

“Say it,” Zhou Mi urges. He slides his soap-mittened hand around to grasp Siwon’s cock and begins to jerk him off as he fucks him. “Say it, YuanYuan.”

Siwon’s mind empties of thought. He can only feel, his awareness blown wide open by the contrast between the short, hard tugs of the rough mitt on his dick and the long, smooth thrusts of Zhou Mi’s cock in his ass. Pleasure catches and builds, layering and growing. He’s shaking, his body arching and no longer his to control, completely enslaved. Water splashes. A rose petal clings to the slope of the tub, a deep curled pink. Tension tightens across his shoulders, shudders down his arms. He’s still struggling, denying, the words caught in his throat. He mouths their shape, but no sound emerges. 

“Please,” Zhou Mi says, and it’s the softness in his tone that does it, pushes Siwon over the edge more than anything else.

“Mimi,” Siwon gasps, eyes shut tight, a blush burning his face. “Mimi, I love you. I love you, I fucking love you—”

“Oh, YuanYuan.” Zhou Mi slams into him, bends right down and fucks into him deep and hard, mouth open against Siwon’s back, teeth scraping the flesh of his shoulder. He grunts, thrusts again, and Siwon feels the explosion of hot seed fill him.

“God, oh _God_ , Mimi— _fuck_...” Siwon breaks apart, shaking with the force of his climax, muscles screaming as the tension snaps. He shoots all over the side of the tub, semen arcing up to spatter over the bath oils and gels and the glass jar with the rose petals. It slides thickly down the tub, drips into the water. He feels Zhou Mi pull out, feels a thin wet trail slink down his thigh. 

Siwon lowers himself gingerly, turns in the tepid, cloudy water, and lies there trembling, hoarse gasps roughening his throat.

Zhou Mi covers him. “My gorgeous boy. That’s what you needed, wasn’t it?”

Siwon hooks a hand around the back of Zhou Mi’s head and hauls him down, fuses their mouths together in a kiss. He hopes it says everything he wants it to say. 

They part for breath. 

“You know what I need,” Siwon says. “You always know.”

Zhou Mi’s smile is gentle. “This is why you love me. This is why you deny me.”

“Yes.” Siwon’s heart is full of anguish and love. “You know too much.”


End file.
